Wolf Moon - Book One of Twelve
by Slash Forever
Summary: "You definitely look stunning in the moonlight, Sam." Dean and his father move to Thrunsdale to investigate a series of murders and sightings of a werewolf. But can the case turn for worse when Dean begins falling for the little Sammy down the street? But Sam may not be the sweet and innocent boy Dean thinks he's shaped up to be. Especially when Dean talks about werewolf's...
1. December 25th

**"You definitely look stunning in the moonlight, Sam." Dean and his father move to Thrunsdale to investigate a series of murders and sightings of a werewolf. But can the case turn for worse when Dean begins falling for the little Sammy down the street? But Sam may not be the sweet and innocent boy Dean thinks he's shaped up to be. Especially when Dean talks about werewolf's...**

* * *

Chapter 1- December 25th

Dean awoke to the sound of his father's rough hands shoving them across his chest.

"Son, son! Wake up." The older man continued to shake his son with a furious demeanor. Dean shuffled himself around in his small and cramped hotel mattress.

"Not now, Dad." Dean moaned. "Get up, and here." John tossed a small boxed wrapped gift at the foot of the bed.

It had too much gift wrap with very little tape. Dean studied it in confusion.

"What's this for?" Dean questioned, setting the present down in front of him on the stained covers from previous stayed visitors. John sat down at the small coffee table by the window and peered out at it for a second before glancing back at the newspaper with mug of iced tea. "It's your present, son."

John said with a chuckle.

Dean's face jumbled up. "Why do I need a present?" Dean got up from the bed and made his way over to the window and looked out. The snow was mounded over the parking lot and cars were piled in mounds of snow. The drifts upon the windows and doorways were massive.

"I mean, is it a special day or something?" Dean asked. His father got up and looked him straight in the eyes.

"Son, it's Christmas." And for an hour after, Dean felt his stupidity crank up just a notch.

* * *

Dean caressed the necklace in his hands and studied it, as if it was some sort of ancient artifact from the Egyptians. It was bronze-silver with a peculiar looking face and horns on it. Above the head was a couple of lines that looked like either a hat or a very wrinkled forehead. His father said it would give him protection against the supernatural that they could come to face. He put the necklace around his neck once again and stood up.

"Hey dad, I'm gonna take a walk. Is that fine?" John barely looked at his son's face to signal a yes. When Dean made his way at a decent pace to the emergency stairs, he walked down the flight and turned around to face his the girl he was meeting.

"Hey Crystal." Dean said with a smile, his face brightening up. The blonde haired seventeen year old was holding a cigarette up to her lips. "Hey babe, nice to see you here again."

Dean chuckled.

There was no special romance between them two because she preferred woman over men, and she knew about, well- Dean had a specific sexual preference... And the fact that Dean had just turned sixteen a week ago and Crystal was almost eighteen seemed a bit odd because when they first met Dean thought she was a skimpy fifteen year old whore getting her first drag on Winter vacation behind the emergency flight of stairs in a one star hotel.

Dean sat beside her, trying to clear away the smoke flying into his face, coughing all while. "My dad says we're leaving today." Crystal looked at the younger boy with disbelief. "You gotta be shitting me? On Christmas Day?"

Dean nodded. "I know. But he says it's a present for me. We've been broke and living in this hotel for two months now, we need a place to stay for about 3 months or so. He already paid the house and everything for rent for like 90 days."

Crystal took out the cigarette and implied.

"No thanks." Dean politely answered. "So, now that you and your old man are gonna settle down for awhile, you think you might get your first chance at getting lucky?"

Dean almost choked on his own saliva. "Excuse me?" He snorted.

"You know what I mean Dean. A little one on one action with another mate." Dean rolled his eyes, smirking. "I don't see me having sex with another man for at least another two years. I mean, if I'm gonna get, lucky, or whatever, I want to be in a committed relationship that lasts longer than three months."

Crystal took another drag before opening the big door that led to outside, throwing the cigarette into the snow before coming back inside. "All I'm saying is, Dean, you better find a boy- no, wait, a man to have soon because here's what I'm telling ya. Dean, you're one of the sexiest males I've ever met." Dean smiled.

"Thanks Crystal, that means a lot coming from a lesbian."

"Dean, I'm not kidding. I ended up hating my father and began a hatred for indecent men in general. I don't want that happening with you, that's all." Dean studied the girl for a moment.

"Wait, what did your father ever do to you?" Crystal stared at Dean like eyeing a colorful fortune ball. "I don't want to talk about it, okay Dean? I just, I need to get back to the room before I get in trouble. Bye Dean. I'll meet you outside when you have to leave."

She gave him a peck on the cheek, and with that, she was gone.

* * *

On his way back to the hotel room, Dean began to analyze things over. That kiss was the first physical touch they've had since first meeting behind that stairwell. But the fact that she left so quickly when she mentioned her father seemed a bit peculiar to Dean.

And that kiss.

Dean knew for a fact that her lips were planted fully on his cheek. But he felt close to almost nothing... Dean decided to put his thoughts in the back of his mind for awhile and start clearing up the hotel room to leave.

Dean grabbed a hold of the card and swiped it into the receiving slot, waiting for the click of the green light to signal that he could make his entrance. Once done, he closed the door behind him.

"Wow, you must really want to get the hell out of here..." Dean said already starting to pick up two small storage bags.

His father was in the bathroom gathering up the towels. As he made his way out, closing the door behind him, John answered his son. "Yeah, I was certainly getting tired of the bathroom wallpaper inside there. Hideous, right? I mean, come on? A baby cupid throwing an arrow. Not that, but hundreds of them?! Uhhhh!"

Sometimes, not often though, Dean thought his vocabulary had a strikingly resemblance to his father's.

And he was right.

* * *

"Is that the last of it?" Dean questioned, closing the trunk to the Impala.

"Yeah, I'll get in and start the car. Why don't you bring the cart back inside?" John answered, opening the car door to hop in.

Dean began pushing the cart along the sloppy snow, his shoes crunching with each stride. "I can't wait for Summer." He murmured to himself as he walked through the revolving doors.

He gave the cart to an elderly couple who had just checked in. Behind them stood Crystal in a new skimpy outfit.

Dean thought the girl changed too much throughout the day. He also thought that the skirt she was barely wearing was already way too high. He didn't care at the moment. It was the last time seeing her anyways.

She came up to him and gave him a big great hug. Yet again, he felt it.

Nothing.

"Oh Dean, I'm gonna miss you so much." She instantly let go of Dean and took a few steps back, as if she was processing Dean's thoughts. "Anything wrong?" She asked.

_Oh shit, it's like she can read my thoughts or something..._ Dean thought, but then he realized he shouldn't be thinking that either.

He realized that gaze.

She wouldn't stop staring at him. She wasn't even blinking anymore. Dean felt like minutes had passed by like seconds. "C'mon on Dean, come to the hotel room with me. I want to show you something. You have to..."

Her voice was coming to a growl at this point. "I'm sorry Crystal. I gotta go." Dean cracked, slowly backing away from the frightening girl.

"Fine. Have it that way." Dean was backing against the revolving door, and as each door flew past his face, he could see each horrendous image turn into something different, more hideous than the last.

First there was Crystal, the evil girl with the slender smile and the skimpy outfit. Next, her face was smashed in, blood bounded out of her eyes. The smile was still fresh. Then, the mirroring image of a man appeared behind him. Blood was covered about his face, and that smile. That same smile from Crystal...

Dean turned around and bumped into his father, a scream coming out from deep within.

* * *

"You wanna talk about it?" John said, loosely holding onto the steering wheel. "No, I just need to clear my head." Dean said with his eyes closed. The images of Crystal and the older man were still there in his head firmly, haunting him still.

"Wow, I gave you a two month break over the holidays so you could have some fun and now you're getting stressed out? I guess that gave you a chance to eat all the junk food in the hotel room. Well, we both sure know you like those white sugared doughnuts." John gave himself a little chuckle at his remark, turning the radio on to Metallica.

Dean instantly turned it off. "What do you mean a break? I thought we were just looking forward to moving to Thrunsdale and all about that werewolf stuff that would take like three to six months?"

John shrugged his shoulders. "Eh. Not really. I was just investigating a case at the hotel. It was probably one of the worst ever. Really. It was horrible." Dean felt his anger getting the best of him.

"Really, you shouldn't have been involved. I had to bring in a priest to bless that damned hotel room. Over fifty men have died from jumping out of the hotel room window." Dean's interest began peaking.

"What do you mean? What had happened?" He said asking.

"Well, a man and her daughter rented the hotel room for a month or two back in the fifties for the holidays. Well, something went wrong and he began sexually abusing her in there, dressing her up in little outfits. Really, he messed her up."

Dean's stomach felt as if he was riding a roller-coaster. "One day he found her with a cigarette pack at the top of the stairwell. He got so mad and angry that he pushed her down the stairs, where she fell to her death."

Dean now felt the puke slowly rising from his chest.

"He felt so remorseful and he had so much resentment that he went back to the hotel room and jumped out of the window. People said they still see her smoking behind the stairwell, and the men who had survived were all bisexual or gay because when they met her she claimed to be a lesbian. Then, as they began to talk more and more, she would lead them up to the hotel room. Every man who had entered that hotel room all jumped out of the window to their death. Pretty fucked up, right Dean?"

But he wasn't listening anymore. He was already rolling down the window to begin puking.

* * *

**Hey you, the one with that beautiful face! Like the review button below! You'll get candy if you do...**


	2. The Boy Peering Between The Bushes

Chapter 2 - The Boy Peering Between The Bushes

"You don't look too good Dean..." John said turning the heat up. "And roll your window back up. You've stopped puking like thirty minutes ago."

Dean's slow response was unnatural, it took him about a minute to get his head up before pushing the button to scroll down the window. "Dean, we need to stop somewhere. Honestly, you look like crap."

Although Dean could barely hear his father's words, he responded with a croaky groan.

"Alright, but can we get something to eat? I'm starving." Dean almost begged, leaning his head yet again against the panel of the window.

He tried to imagine he was alone with someone else, deep way in the forest, leaning up against a hard lean chest. But these usual Dean thoughts were actually making him want to hurl again, so he just continued to lean against the window and just close his eyes until his Dad stopped somewhere.

* * *

Dean felt like it took forever to open his eyes, but when he did, he almost went blind by the flashing and blinking lights. The car was parked in front of a big sized Denny's that was hopping with people. Dean imagined that he and his father just pulled up because as soon as Dean began figuring out what to do, John slid the keys out of the ignition and began to get out.

Dean followed his father's steps, closing the door behind him.

"I know I'm hungry but Denny's? Really?" Dean would admit though, they did have good pancakes.

"Eh, they have good breakfast." His father shrugged.

They entered the restaurant and stood there waiting to be seated. Behind the register was a woman in her late thirties or early forties with bright red hair. "Hey gentleman." She said kindly, grabbing two menu's from under the counter.

She was wearing a bright light blue suit with a white apron over it. Dean thought maybe she was a manager who did a lot of the work here.

"A table for two?" She asked, before suggesting if she could grab another menu. "Yes please, and a booth if you have one."

The lady smiled politely. "Sure thing."

She began walking into the diner, as Dean and his father followed pursuit. The lady set the menu's down on the table. "Your waiter will be here in a moment." She pronounced, before moving back to the front door where the register was.

Now that Dean and his father both have been seated, he wanted to get down to the talking and finally get some answers.

"So how far away are we from the house?" Dean asked, grabbing a hold of his napkin and laying it on his lap.

There were multiple sets of small cups with water in them, so as John took a small swig from one, he answered his son's question. "We're about five miles from the house. It's actually in a small gated community called the Gated Community of Thrunsdale.''

Dean _really_ thought that name was screaming with originality...

He too also took a sip of water before setting it back down on the table. "Dad, what are we even doing here?" Dean said, folding his hands together.

John looked at his son straight in the eye.

"Son, I'm gonna be one hundred percent honest with you. It's not like we're gonna expect to go out hunting one night and kill a werewolf. Plus, werewolves only change one night throughout the entire month because of a full moon. And the chances of killing this thing is even slimmer. I heard about this Dean. This thing killed over fifty people this past six months. That's almost ten killings per month in one single night. I've never heard anything like this. I mean, it was on the front page of the newspaper every day for the past month. Over 200 sightings? Dean, this thing is strong. Very strong. I'm even thinking of getting a trainer to get in shape. Dean, I don't know if you can handle this. I mean, yeah, you're going to the high school in the meanwhile because we might not catch this thing for quite sometime, but I think that's the best choice. Studies could get your mind off of hunting for awhile, you know, make some friends."

Dean could see it in his father's eyes. Something he almost never saw.

Complete _fear_.

Dean's father looked terrified. Not for his son, but also for himself. He knew he couldn't fight this thing alone. "But dad, if you're having doubt in yourself, then why even try to catch this asshole? I mean, we have over one hundred silver bullets just in the back of the Impala. I think we could easily catch this bastard." John looked down at the menu. "I really don't want to talk about this. Let's just find something to eat here." John began to evaluate the menu choices as Dean stared out the window.

All this new information was processing through his brain like a scanner. His father's worried state was giving him doubt in himself too.

Then Dean saw it. A peculiar teenage boy was sitting on the curb beside the restaurant. He had dark brown hair that shaped down to his eyes and his hands were inside his sweatshirt. The boy was staring right at Dean, staring straight into his eyes.

Dean felt as if a dark cloud just passed over his head because he began to get really cold. Dean looked away and shivered.

"Anything wrong?" John asked.

"No, I'm just really really cold. I hate this Winter, that's all."

John laughed. "You've hated Winter as long as I could remember." John stared back down at the menu. "I think I know what I want." He exclaimed, finally settling down the menu.

Dean peered back to witness the boy's gaze again.

But he was gone.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Dean and his father were walking out of Denny's with leftovers. "Hey Dean, hold this. I want to get this town's daily newspaper." John said, giving his box to his son.

John walked over to an orange covered box titled in black letters _Thrunsdale Tribune._ John flipped opened the glass cover and grabbed a hold of one of the newspaper, glaring down at the front cover.

Even from where Dean was parked, he could see the title printed clearly. _Will The Thrunsdale Terror Strike Again?_ printed in bold white lettering. Below that was a picture that Dean mostly likely thought was taken by a hunter. The picture was set in the woods during night time, and you could clearly see a monster with sharp teeth glaring back at the film.

Dean could clearly see they were dealing with a werewolf.

Dean began to kick the snow off the curb, where it splattered onto the parking lot. "Damn you Winter." He murmured under his breath.

Then he felt it, right where he was parked. Not like when he was in the hotel lobby or puking out the window, no. Like when he was back in the restaurant and that boy was staring back at him on the curb.

He felt that darkness.

Dean was drawn to it somehow. That dark cloud over him. Dean felt that too. Where was this energy coming from?

Then Dean saw it. Those same eyes sat on the curb. The same boy who was on the curb staring at Dean through the window was now peering through the tall garden bushes across the street.

* * *

**Yeah yeah yeah, I know. This chapter was much shorter than the last but I already have a third chapter coming up soon and if I start getting reviews it could come up even quicker!**


	3. The House At The End Of The Street

Chapter Three - The House At The End Of The Street

"So, here we are." John spoke as the Impala came to a sudden screech. Dean fell forward in his seat, the belt yanking back on his neck. He then was forcefully pulled back, hitting his head hard on the back of the seat.

"Shit." He exclaimed, rubbing his head in a circular motion. "Oh yeah, we stopped." John said snorting at himself.

As Dean tried to figure out what was going on, he looked at the image outside the window. "Holy crap." Dean said, rolling down his window to get a closer view. "When you said this community was gated you sure as hell meant what you were saying."

Dean stared at the gate surround by a tall hard brick wall twenty feet above the ground. At the tip, Dean could barely see the slight bristle tree branches swaying back and forth. "It's like we're gonna go live with Donald Trump or something." Dean said, having an urge to get out of the Impala and take a closer look.

"Dean, it's just an old blockade. It's not the Wall Of China or anything." Dean looked at his father. "What's that?" John rolled his eyes.

"I'll be right back." Dean's father got out of the car, leaving the door ajar.

Next to the gate was a box with a slot built into it. John grabbed a rectangular card out of his back pocket and slid it into the receiving slot. Just like the hotel room, a green light lit up inside the metal box and the gate began to creak open. John made his way back to the car, seating himself up and closing the door behind him.

"Welcome to Thrunsdale Dean."

* * *

"What the hell is this? The House At The End Of The Street?" Dean said with sarcasm as they pulled up to the new house. John just stared at his son. "Dean, do you think I would ever really buy a house like that?"

Dean stared outside the window.

The house that they were about to sprawl up to had it's shingles broken, the windows actually tinted black, except for the attic window, and the front door was huge with _three_ deadbolts that had to be locked from the _outside. _Dean thoughts of some kind of abuse could be there. The last place he would ever want to be in.

"No, it looks like some kind of satanic torture has happened there or something!" John continued to drive. "Good, because that's not our house. And plus, that movie was just horrible, that Last House On The Left At The End Of The Street or something."

John went further down the street and pulled up to a driveway. "Home sweet home." He sighed, turning and parking into the driveway.

"Holy shit, know wonder we've been broke for two months, you basically just bought a mansion."

John pulled the keys out of the ignition as Dean got out of the car. "Am I being punked or something?" Dean said, almost running up to the front door like a five year old.

"The landlord said that the keys would be under the mat." John exclaimed, as he and his son both stared down at the greeting mat which read: _Come in. But if you have coffee, then please, stay._ Dean couldn't help but laugh as his father removed the greeting mat to retrieve the key.

Their were two. Dean knew that one was for his father and one was for him.

John put the mat back in place and slid the key into the lock, turned it, and the door opened.

Two words entered Dean's head: _Holy Jesus._

The two entered the first room, already filled with furniture. Two couches came together to form an open corner, at each of them stood an end table with lamps. Over that was a chandelier that had about fifty small bulbs. This was most likely the family room because there was only two other things in the room and that were paintings hanging up on the wall. A copy of Mona Lisa and a small unknown picture of a ship sinking in the ocean at a distance. Up against past the wall stood spiraling stairs leading to the second floor.

Dean began going around the main level, first entering the room to the right. There was another sofa with end tables and lamps. In front of that was a small wood table. Across the room was a flat screen television, DVR, the whole nine yards.

Dean went further towards the back, where a dining room was with a table and two big wood china sets. Dean went in through the doorway and came into the kitchen. This room had impressed him the most.

The counter was marble with cut edges. The cabinets were also built into the setting above the counter. In the middle stood an island and above that hung tools to cook. Dean went back into the family room where his father stood.

"Now the upstairs." John said, beginning the journey up the stairs. Dean counted every step. Twenty-seven in all.

"My room's right here." John pointed to the door next to them. "I'll be in there whenever you need me. This is the main bathroom."

John pointed to another door all the way at the end of the hallway. "And that is the main bedroom, yours." Dean walked over to the door, opening it.

Inside was a full room with a queen bed, and you had to take a few steps down before you were level with the floor. To the right was a balcony and to the left was a bathroom.

"So how do you like it?" John said opening the door. Dean turned around to face his father.

"I love it." Dean exclaimed.

* * *

Dean and his father made their way down the stairwell, coming back to all the familiar objects they've just seen.

"Now Dean, you know the usual concept. Since this case is gonna take some time I'll be doing some cases every couple days. I may not be back for awhile for some of them so lock the door while you're at it."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I know, I know. I just can't believe we're living here. In _this_ place. I love it. It's gonna be awesome." John smiled comfortably. "That's great to hear. I love this house too."

The two were silent for a moment till both agreeing to go back outside and start clearing out the car. But when Dean stepped outside, and he felt that agonizing energy.

Of being watched again. It was all around him again.

The leaves, the trees, the sidewalks, the cars, the driveways. Everywhere. He felt it everywhere. Especially from the creepy house across the street.

And then at the window was the boy peering out through the attic window. The same one with the long hair to his eyes and the hands in his sweater who was a few inches taller then Dean.

The same one sitting at the curb outside Denny's and the same one who was peering across the street at Dean and his father from the tall garden bushes.

He was living in the creepy house that had _three_ deadbolts.

* * *

**I honestly love writing this story. I've actually had an idea sort of like this but with original characters, but I just felt like it didn't have enough spark to it. I've tried working it out with other categories but only Supernatural fits, and I think it's perfect. Dean just brings the story to live and gives it charisma and wisdom.**

**Oh, and if I get 5 reviews I will post another chapter!**


	4. Cute Boys and Full Moons

Chapter 4 - Cute Boys and Full Moons

Spending his first night in his new bedroom by himself had Dean up the entire time scared to death. The fact that the creepy boy who lives across the street is locked inside his own house, when in the first place he almost followed Dean and his father the whole way here.

Although Dean loved his room, he actually missed the lumpy hotel mattress. It had somehow had become a home to him.

Everywhere he looked Dean could feel the boy's presence somehow. It was towering over him at the foot of the bed, leaning over his body, and slowly whispering into his ear, before laying down beside Dean. He was also in the bathroom with a sharp razor, ready to shave Dean's face off when he eventually fell asleep. He was also in the closet, peering through the wooden blinds with a butcher knife. He was then outside on the balcony with a shotgun ready to blow Dean's head off.

But worst of all, the boy was under the bed with a pistol. Dean began to think of the most worst possible causes of this mysterious boy living across the street.

Dean closed his eyes and let the wind blowing against the balcony doors somehow cradle him to sleep.

If this strange feeling was going to be around him all the time, Dean thought might as well get used to it, right?

So Dean opened up the covers and invited this strange presence in, then snuck-up on his pillow and gave it a great bear hug.

After all, Dean thought the boy was just a _tad_ bit cute.

* * *

"Good-morning sleepy head." Exclaimed John as Dean made his way down the stairwell.

John was in the kitchen drinking a cup of coffee, reading the newspaper once again. The front page news article wasn't about the sightings of the werewolf. Today it was about Thrunsdale's oldest citizen receiving Thrunsdale's Lifetime Citizenship Award given by the mayor, who happened to actually be a woman.

Dean entered the kitchen, plopping down on the bar-stool of the island. A plate of food had already been cooked for him and laid there, waiting to be fed.

John looked down from the newspaper. "What are you staring at me for? Eat your breakfast." John demanded his son.

Dean grunted with a sour face. "I'm not that hungry." Dean pronounced, instead drinking his glass of orange juice. Although he hated the taste of it, Dean thought the juice was refreshing.

"Why is that?" John asked, taking another sip of his coffee.

Dean shrugged his shoulders. "Eh, I didn't get very good night's rest. I have major adjustments to get used to." Dean said, staring at his plate of sausage, bacon, eggs, and pancakes.

"Well, at least eat the pancakes. We have a very long day ahead of us."

Dean looked down at the plate. The food was already beginning to scream his name. "Why, what are we doing today?" Dean questioned, already digging through the start of the sausages and eggs.

John set the newspaper down on on the island table. "Well, now that I just set the WiFi up on your laptop, I'll now be able to register you online for high school so we don't have to actually go to it and stand there for an hour just to get a lanyard and your school ID."

Dean began to get pumped. He was so excited to go to high school he was barely breathing. He wanted to create all these new long term friends that he might see everyday for sometime.

"So when does school start, well, for me at least?" Dean questioned, already scarfing down his sausages, and his eggs were almost finished. "You'll start school on January 3rd, when everybody comes back from the holidays. Now, this is what you should say whenever somebody asks you where you from or how you got here. Just say that you were living with your uncle on his farm while your dad gone out for business trips. You went to St. Judy's Private School in Wood-ridge. Never change the story."

Dean nodded, already moving on to the pancakes. "I got it. I just have a feeling everyone's gonna be down my throat because I'm the new kid and everything. That's the only thing that I'm worried about. Everyone's gonna make fun of me or something."

John looked at his son. "Dean, I promised nobody's gonna laugh at you. If something embarrassing happens, and they begin laughing at you, just laugh with them. They'll like you, Dean."

But he couldn't hear over his father, he already was shoving the pancakes down his esophagus.

"So, anything else we're doing today?" Dean asked, starting his bacon over a pancake-filled mouth.

John chuckled.

"Good thing you asked that today, son. I got a surprise for you."

Dean's interest level increased. "Wait, what do you mean? You've never been one for making surprises." Dean took a swig of his orange juice.

"Well, today's different." John responded. "Guess what day it is, Dean? Can you?"

Dean shrugged his shoulders. "The day after Christmas, duh?" Dean said hinting with a bit of sarcasm.

John laughed. "Always been the funny one, haven't you? But really, do you know what tonight is, Dean?"

Dean thought. _Well, if yesterday was Christmas, and New Years Eve isn't for at least a couple days. That could only mean one thing..._

"Dean, tonight is a full moon. Tonight, we're going hunting."

* * *

Dean stood in his bedroom shower, reminiscing over today's schedule.

Talking about school had made him nervous. He _wanted_ to go to school, but at the same time he didn't. But when the subject changed about hunting the werewolf tonight, Dean literally died inside from almost having a heart attack.

He felt like hurling and excused himself to go use the bathroom. Now, he ended up in the shower, the warm water spraying on the top of his head, the soap falling down his body and splatting on the ground.

In the shower was the only place where Dean could really think. Honestly, he was scared to come face to face with this thing tonight.

Only one thing could get his mind off of his haunting thoughts...

As he pumped body soap onto his hands, Dean began lathering up over his muscled chest and his chiseled abs. Then he led down to his lean hips and stroked them just a bit. Dean was actually very fit for his age, probably more strong than his father.

But as he continued to go lower and lower, thoughts of the cute boy living across the street came alive.

* * *

**Well, that escalated quickly... Anyways, tell me what you guys think in your reviews. That would be lovely.**

**Also, Happy Father's Day!**


	5. Hunting

Chapter 5- Hunting

"Hey dad, I'm gonna go out for a walk. Is that fine?" Dean asked, hair mopped with water, a towel draped around his shoulders as he walked down the stairwell.

"Yeah, but the minute the sky begins darkening I need you in this house now. I don't want that thing hurting you." John said, currently sitting on one of the family room sofas with Dean's laptop. "It'll only be an half an hour. I promise. I'll be back at four thirty."

John nodded as Dean closed the front door behind him. The sky was a light blue, but as he turned his head towards the other side of the sky, it was already turning black. Dean decided to just take a short jog around the block but he felt like it was a bit awkward to be running during the middle of Winter in a large sweater, so Dean stayed with walking.

He began walking towards the lighter side of the sky, where more traffic was. Dean's father said to make sure he was always in places where regular people could see him, not places like small woods and cabins or anything like that.

Dean turned right at the corner, walking alongside the busy street.

But as Dean continued along, he felt that icy energy again. It was over him, like a set of grey clouds. The noise of the traffic began to faint, and Dean could suddenly hear the sound of his own breathing.

Then he heard his own heartbeat thumping in his chest. He didn't feel safe. Dean turned around, and the boy who had been living across the street was standing right _behind_ him.

Dean's steps started at a quicker pace, the lump inside his throat swelling immensely. Dean got to the next corner and turned around to see that the boy had disappeared. When Dean turned around at all directions, trying to find this sly and sneaky boy his age, but to not betrayal. Dean thought this was his chance to take a full speed at it and head the rest of the way home running. Dean began sprinting down the street, where a major incline stood. Dean began to slow down, but to his horror, the same boy stepped from behind a hedge, staring back at Dean, who screamed like a little girl, running into the street.

An old red Chevy truck passed by, almost hitting Dean, who got out of the way, running past the strange and mysterious boy behind the hedge, and full into a patch of snowy bushes. Dean got up, brushing the taste of snow out of his dry mouth.

"Now, listen to me. I don't know why you're following me, or how, but just leave me-" Dean stopped mid-sentence.

The boy had magically disappeared.

* * *

John pulled the Impala into a space of an empty parking lot. A bit down the road was a playground, and a bike trail. There was a big line of trees across the entire area, and Dean had a creepy feeling that they never stopped.

"Why are we here?" Dean said, looking out the window to take a clear look at the full moon. "Well, the werewolf had been sighted by this woods dozens of times last couple of months. So, probably we're gonna find this thing here tonight." John said, getting out of the Impala.

Dean followed suit and began walking alongside his father. Dean took a good glance around the whole street. They two were the only ones to be seen, and Dean had a queasy feeling inside his stomach.

"Dad, I don't feel good about this." Dean swallowed, the lump in his Adam's apple becoming more noticeable.

"Son, I'll handle it. Here, have this." John looked around to see if any witnesses were nearby, then out pulled a small gun. "It already has six silver bullets inside it, so you should be fine. Now, keep that thing in your pocket at all times. I don't want people getting worried that something suspicious might be arising."

Dean pocketed the handheld gun inside his sweater and zipped it. "Now, I just want you to stand by that big tree over there, and keep watch. I'm gonna go investigate further into the woods. Bodies have been seen by this nearby cabin not too far from here, so we may be close to this thing. Now, if you see anything frightening, don't pull that gun out until you fully know it's the werewolf, okay. And if it is, I want you to aim the trigger straight at the heart, you got it?" Dean nodded.

"Okay, good. Now go stand by that tree." Dean turned around and began staggering towards the big oak that was towering over the Impala.

"And Dean..." John said, his son turning around to face him. "I love you."

* * *

It was not too long before Dean rested his head against the trunk of the oak and closed his eyes. It had been a good thirty minutes of pure silence before Dean decided he needed to sit down and clear his mind. All this werewolf stuff had been freaking the living lights out of him.

All seemed quite calm until Dean awoken to the sounds of evil howls. Dean opened his eyes, blinking desperately, furiously looking up at the open sky and the stars, the moon fully in depth.

The werewolf continued to howl as Dean heard the sounds of scraping claws against the snow. It was coming closer towards Dean, who had no idea what to do.

He wanted to make a mad dash to the Impala, but he didn't have to keys to open the doors. Dean thought maybe he should run across the street and head into the car dealership and tell somebody to call the police, but the people might think that it's all just a fluke and a high-schooled boy is just playing a mean and old cruel joke on them. Besides, the place looked closed.

Dean closed his eyes and prayed, hoped to God that the creature wouldn't find him, wouldn't touch him, wouldn't kill him. He hoped that if he just stayed in one place that he wouldn't be caught. But as the werewolf drew nearer, Dean knew the odds weren't looking good.

The werewolf popped his head around the corner of the tree, smelling the odor of Dean, trying to pinpoint exactly where the human was. Dean slowly drew around the trunk of the tree, slowly backing away from the creature. Dean took another step, trying to stay still as possible, but as his foot planted to the Earth, he tripped over a stem, falling to the ground with a loud thud.

Dean almost died when the creature turned around miraculously, grinning from ear to ear, his razor sharp teeth shinning in the moonlight.

Dean let out a loud horrendous scream and laid on the ground, closing his eyes as the werewolf held his head back, his sharp claws up in the air. Dean prayed one more last time as the werewolf's arm came swinging down.

Nothing.

Dean's eyes opened. The werewolf stood a few yards back, leaning against the tree, whining like a small dog. Dean laid there, staring at the creature's back, wondering what the hell was happening. Dean didn't feel like getting up, as he was too afraid to see what would happen.

"Dean, you're alive!" Dean turned around and saw his father, John standing about 50 yards away. But when John realized what must have happened, he stood there almost lifeless.

As the werewolf turned around, taking a glance over at Dean, then his father fifty yards further, the creature's eyes dilated. He let back another howl, before clenching his legs and leaping over Dean, who let out another scream. Dean looked back as the creature began tearing the snow up, racing towards his father, and he realized it.

The werewolf was going after John.

* * *

**If we get past 10 reviews I'll start creating the sixth chapter right away, and if we get to fifteen I'll add an extra surprise scene and make Sam and Dean meet for the first time. Keep the reviews up!**


	6. Werewolf's, Demons, and Vampires, Oh My!

Chapter 6- Werewolf's, Demons, and Vampires, Oh My!

"NO!" Dean screamed out, getting up and lunging after the creature. "Don't you dare hurt my fucking father!" Dean cursed, beginning to sprint, chasing the werewolf who was practically clinging onto John's clothes as he continued at full agility.

Dean couldn't believe his mind when he had began running almost twenty miles in a couple of seconds. Then Dean did something he thought he would have never done in his entire live. He _jumped_ on top of the wolf's back, tackling him to the ground.

Dean turned the creature around where he was face to face with the monster, and began flailing his arms in a maniac manner.

"Dean, get the gun!"

Dean was processing his father's comments as he continued to punch the werewolf square cross his inhuman hairy face. "What fucking gun?!" Dean yelled, screaming all while, his arms flowing with blood as the sharp teeth cascaded across Dean's skin. "You motherfucking bitch! You cut me! I'll fucking kill you, you hear that werecunt?! I'll kill you!" Dean's curses manifested, echoing against the trunks of the willows and the oak.

"Dean, the gun that I handed to you! Where is it?" John frantically asked his son, making a decision on what act he should take part in in. Dean had been in the heat of the moment that he forgot his own defensive object. Dean stood back, getting up while doing so.

The creature covered his face, whimpering from his wounds. "Yeah, that's right, bitch. Cry all you want, but it's about time you get what's been coming to you for months now!" Dean unzipped his pocket, and held out the gun, putting the trigger into mode.

"Dean, don't. It's useless!" John said, almost barricading his son from the creature, but Dean was too late. He didn't care at this point what his father said or not. He was going to kill this bastard for all he's ever done. Dean pointed the gun straight at the creature's heart and pulled the trigger.

Nothing.

"Told you it was useless, Dean!" John grabbed the gun and began going through his pockets. "Dad, watch out!" Dean yelled, as John ducked under the werewolf's grasp, his paw hitting Dean right in the stomach.

Dean's body fell to the floor, gasping for air. John began running further into the forest, the creature in fast pursuit.

"Dad, don't!" Dean said, feeling quite dizzy getting up. He didn't care as he began running for the two, who were already way ahead. About forty yards was fields of corn on a downwards hill, and Dean could see his father running into them, the monster closing in on them too.

Dean stopped before them the second the werewolf went beyond. Dean was praying that his father killed it or something as he continued to hear the rusting of the cornstalks. Dean felt a gut feeling of racing in there, to see if anything was going wrong so he went smack face first, the stalks hitting his forehead, almost tripping as he ran downwards.

The cornstalks stopped at the edge of a small pond, Dean holding onto dear life to the stalks of corn, almost falling into the water.

"Dad!" Dean yelled, turning around to see if his father had followed behind him, but to no effect. "Dean!" John's voice came from the other side of the cornstalks. Dean traced the voice's origin, following his steps from when he entered the field. Dean ran up the hill, running into his father's body.

"Dad, where is it?!" Dean asked his father full of fright. "Dean, not now. We're leaving! Get to the Impala!"

John grabbed his son by the scruff of the collar, creating a rough red patch on Dean's neck.

* * *

"Dad, why did we leave?" Dean asked frantically as John pulled the Impala out of the parking space.

"Because we're not ready. This thing is too strong for us." John said, beginning to drive on the empty street.

Dean felt like the Impala was the only moving thing in the entire town. "Then when the hell will we be?" Dean asked with an attitude. "Dean, not now. I don't know. Just shut up." John demanded.

"No dad! I want to know why that gun wasn't loaded with any bullets." Dean demanded his dad. "Dean, I gave you that gun because I wanted to see if you could hold yourself up against that thing. To see if you could go one on one with this thing without any guns or anything. But you can't. You're not strong enough." John said, putting his foot on the gas pedal.

"I'm not strong enough? Hell dad, I jumped on that bitch's back the minute it started going after you. You just ran the whole fucking time away from it."

John yelled out in frustration. "Dean, I told you, I don't want to hear it right now! Just shut up." John demanded his son again.

"At least _I'm_ not the weak one." Dean murmured under his breath.

"What the hell was that?" John asked, looking at his son. "Nothing, just drive." Dean said, looking out the window.

"Listen Dean, and listen good. I do this because it's my life. I need to find that Demon that killed your mom. You just come along because you like to do it. Just for now, you can't go." John said, turning onto another street.

"Fine then, I didn't want to go with you anyways."

* * *

Dean closed the passenger door to the Impala, slamming it harder then it needed to be. He marched across the yard, stomping his feet.

"Dean, come back! I want to talk to you before-" Dean closed the front door behind his father, running up the stairs. Once he got into the hallway, Dean ran down to his bedroom, closing the door behind him and locking it.

By now, Dean was out of breath, and his stomach hurt like hell. He closed his eyes, his back against the bedroom door, and his hand went over his stomach.

A tear wept from Dean's eyes, his face scrunched up in intense pain. He decided to take a shower to wipe away any excess blood, and began to take a look at his stomach as he took his shirt off in the bathroom, facing the gigantic mirror.

There was a big red mark below his abs and a long cut that ran down his hips. When Dean proceeded to take off his shoes, socks, pants, and boxers, Dean noticed the red rash starting to grow along his neck.

Covering that, though, was the necklace John gave to Dean to protect him against the supernatural forces that they came to face. _So, if this thing can protect me from werewolf's, demons, and vampires, then I wonder what it can't do.__  
_

And Dean would soon find that out.

* * *

**Yeah, I know, not a scary ending or any big climax or anything but I hope that you guys like it. Tell me what you guys think in your reviews. Let's see if we can get to 15 reviews! Sam and Dean meet next chapter!**


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